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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Changed Half-Wit
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The world is unfair and shitty.
It was a thought Krash often had.
He'd realized it around the age of eight.
The day he picked up a sword, following his older brothers and sisters.
That was when Krash understood the world had abandoned him.
Because swinging the sword himself felt utterly pathetic.
Sure, an eight-year-old kid swinging a sword didn't make much sense to begin with.
But the family Krash belonged to wasn't one where average reactions applied.
The strongest family in the Staron Kingdom.
Valheim.
Every direct descendant born there was a genius, a monster.
Everyone except one: Krash, the shameful youngest of Valheim.
Still, he'd struggled and clawed his way into the Generation of the Sky.
But even that ended in betrayal by those he thought were comrades.
A worthless body that could only hold curses.
What a pathetic life, really.
That was what Krash thought.
Until he opened his eyes today.
Flicker!
Krash stared blankly at the hazy ceiling visible between his eyelids.
Cold sweat soaked his entire body.
At the same time, he saw his hand stretched out in front of him.
The hand he'd extended toward Arthur, struggling to the very end.
Krash gazed at it dazedly, gradually coming back to his senses.
Cicadas...
Cicada cries whispered into his ears from beyond the window.
The sunlight streaming in told him it was a summer afternoon right now.
The sweltering summer heat unique to the season beaded sweat on his forehead.
The perishing world had been a brutally cold winter, the complete opposite.
His eyes shifted back to his hand.
"Huh?"
Because the hand reflected in his eyes was perfectly fine.
Krash's mind went blank.
Along with that, he realized one more thing.
The eye that had definitely been blind now saw clearly.
And that wasn't all.
His whole body felt strangely light, unlike before.
Drip...
A bead of sweat slowly trailed from Krash's forehead down his cheek.
He looked around, and the room was familiar.
Because it was the room he'd stayed in back when he lived at the Valheim estate.
What the hell was going on right now?
The answer was simple.
'No way.'
The Black Hood he'd poured into the hand reaching for Arthur at the end.
His skill, used with the vague hope that he could steal skills too.
'I stole Arthur's Regression.'
The moment he realized that, chills ran down his spine.
At the same time, Krash looked down at his hand.
He'd suspected it, but he never imagined he could actually steal a skill.
Krash clenched his fist tightly.
A thrill shot through his body—the final gamble had succeeded.
'I could've tested it sooner, really.'
An ability that could steal even curses.
Stealing a skill was probably only natural.
But Krash hadn't bothered to try.
Even if he stole one, he had no confidence in wielding a skill someone had honed their whole life.
And by the time he thought skills might be stealable, his body was already wrecked by curses.
Not to mention, his Black Hood had a clear weakness.
'The theft difficulty is relative.'
Even a roadside pebble could be someone's greatest treasure.
In that case, stealing even a mere stone with Black Hood wouldn't be easy.
'The lock that appears when using Black Hood is the condition.'
When Black Hood activated, the lock's conditions varied wildly.
And only by fulfilling that condition would the lock open, granting what's inside.
That was Black Hood.
'So abilities are even harder to steal.'
Naturally, one's own ability is their most precious possession.
Thus, the conditions were so harsh that stealing wasn't easy.
'But how did this time work?'
When he'd stolen Arthur's Regression, Krash hadn't seen any lock.
He'd simply activated Black Hood and taken it.
How was that possible?
'Maybe.'
One thought crossed Krash's mind.
He'd vaguely sensed it from Arthur.
The feeling of exhaustion, numbly repeating actions over and over in his youth.
To Krash, it looked like Arthur had already regressed countless times.
Regression was incredible, sure.
But repeating it endlessly? No normal mind could endure.
Especially in a world heading toward destruction.
'That's why he chose Memory Succession for those three years.'
Even if he regressed again, he probably just wanted someone by his side.
The problem was, Krash hadn't even qualified as that someone.
'Anyway, deep down, Arthur wanted to be rid of Regression.'
As a result, Krash had stolen it effortlessly—no lock at all.
'For Arthur, Regression was...'
Perhaps a curse.
A curse he desperately wanted to escape.
"Wait a second."
Then another thought struck Krash.
He'd stolen Arthur's Regression and regressed to the past.
So what about the Arthur he knew?
'Black Hood leaves nothing behind in the target.'
If it did, it wouldn't count as theft.
He'd stolen Arthur's Regression, so Arthur definitely no longer had it.
Did that mean the Arthur he knew was stuck in that previous cycle, facing destruction?
Left before the meteor shower of World Erosion?
"Ha, haha."
Krash's lips leaked a hollow laugh.
"Serves you right, Arthur."
Who could've guessed the Regression you hated so much would betray you in the end?
Krash sneered at Arthur as he rose from his seat.
He felt no pity for the man who'd treated him as mere trash.
If anything, maybe he deserved thanks.
Krash had taken away that hated Regression for him.
'So what year is it now?'
But Krash had the same problem as Arthur.
He knew the end of this world.
The destruction even the Generation of the Sky couldn't stop.
If he couldn't prevent it, he'd die too.
"Fuck."
Krash spat a curse as he got out of bed.
He felt decently muscled.
Talentless as he was, he'd swung a sword every day just to survive.
Pathetic compared to his siblings, but he'd built at least some muscle.
But it wasn't enough.
Krash's eyes turned to the full-length mirror reflecting him.
Early teens, maybe?
Shorter than in his memories, with bright, sparkling blue eyes.
'Can I stop it?'
He, who'd only ever been used as a curse sponge.
Could he avert the world's end?
As that doubt rose, Krash clenched his fists tight.
'Cut the bullshit.'
Not "can I"—he had to.
If destruction came, he'd die just the same.
No choices here.
With that, Krash kicked open the door.
The desolate hallway he hadn't seen in ages filled his vision.
This was Green Pine Pavilion in Valheim, where he'd spent his childhood long ago.
Green Pine Pavilion—better called exile for Valheim's worst direct descendants.
It was a modest pavilion run by just one butler and three maids.
'Being here means...'
The proof ceremony at age ten was done.
"Young master? Where are you rushing off to?"
Just then, as he stepped out, the butler addressed him.
The butler with striking white whiskers was named Aliod.
He'd been assigned to follow Krash to Green Pine Pavilion.
Seeing his face, Krash's eyes widened instantly.
'Right. This is when Aliod was still alive.'
Because Aliod was the only one in Valheim who'd ever cared for him.
Krash called his name for the first time in ages.
"Aliod."
"Yes, young master."
Watching Aliod bow at his call, Krash smiled back.
"When do you plan to use the poison my third brother gave you this time, to kill the family disgrace that is me?"
Aliod's face stiffened rigidly.
Krash kept smiling at him.
Aliod, butler of Green Pine Pavilion.
Around age fourteen, the one who'd slipped poison from Krash's third brother into his stew.
Krash's first betrayal since birth.
He was the culprit.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Aliod's mind was in chaos.
The Krash Valheim before him was the direct Valheim descendant assigned to him from birth.
The Staron Kingdom, the only power rivaling the world's strongest empire, Epania.
Staron could stand against the empire for one reason: Valheim.
Every direct descendant born there possessed innate martial prowess.
That was why even the empire couldn't touch Staron lightly.
But Krash Valheim was different.
Normally, Valheim direct descendants drew offers from gods before age ten.
The better the contractor, the higher the god's status rose, so Valheim heirs were always top priority.
But not Krash Valheim.
The Valheim proof ceremony.
At age ten, in the rite showing his excellence, Krash failed to contract any god.
His innate talent was abysmal.
In the end, deemed Valheim's disgrace, he was banished to Green Pine Pavilion.
For Aliod, his butler, it was blood-curdling.
His lifelong charge was this pathetic; his own future was set.
"Y-Young master, what are you saying?"
Aliod blurted it out in a flustered expression.
Just yesterday, Krash had been moping about his life like a wastrel.
He never imagined he'd notice the proposal from mere days ago.
And that wasn't all.
'Has he changed somehow?'
Krash's eyes usually lacked any will to live, utterly lifeless.
That had made Aliod give up, but today was different.
His eyes burned with an unnaturally fierce desire.
As if he'd become a different person overnight.
'What the hell.'
What happened last night?
All he remembered was Krash collapsing from sword practice and falling asleep.
While Aliod panicked,
Krash slowly swept his hand up his forehead.
Without curses, his hair felt remarkably smooth.
Disgrace of the family or not, as a noble representing Staron, he'd been well-groomed.
It wouldn't stay that way much longer, not with his temperament.
'He's panicking.'
Looking at Aliod's face, Krash felt this time would be different.